


A Lion's Game

by foxmulderrs



Category: game of thrones
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/F, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-10 01:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11681655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmulderrs/pseuds/foxmulderrs
Summary: An olive skinned Lannister ends up in a marriage with the prized son of The North. She navigates the game as best she can, but during the first month after Ned Stark dies, she can't help but wonder; Who will live, and who will die? [ warning: this character goes through traumatic events, there will be trigger warnings]





	A Lion's Game

_FREYA_

A candle on a table next to the bed gave the small room a warm light. The curtains were shut to avoid prying eyes, and the brothel was quiet for once. A little girl jumped onto the bed, and hid herself under the silk sheets. Green eyes and freckles, she was her mother’s whole life, her greatest accomplishment. She had followed behind her and hid under the sheets as well. 

The little girl smiled, brown hair covering olive skin. Her mother, an exquisite beauty just like her, smiled back, and pushed the hair out of her face. 

“You should sleep, little lion. I hear that tomorrow, Masha is going to take you out of the city walls, to visit some friends who own a farm. They have children too, and I’m sure that you’ll want to save your energy to play with them,” Her mother said, a silky voice that was music to the ears. The girl yawned and rubbed her eyes, laying her head on the pillow.

“Can you sing me a lullaby to go to bed? Please mama?” She asked in response. She truly wasn't tired, but she loved to hear her mother sing and she knew this was the only way. The older one, with brown eyes so soft, laughed and nodded.

“Very well, but you must promise to sleep little one.” She answered, laying down comfortably to face the girl, running a hand through her hair.

“I promise mama.” She smiled, closing her eyes. The mother kissed her forehead, and begun to sing, but her voice had changed, and it was deep and haunting and not her own.

_“And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?_

_Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know,_

_In a coat of red or gold, a lion still has claws,_

_And mine are long and sharp, my lord,_

_As long and sharp as yours.”_

“Milady.”

A voice, waking the eleven year old from a dream. Freya opened her eyes and sat up, to see her handmaiden Briella, pouring a cup of water for her, from the beat up metal pitcher. The girl was only slightly older than Freya, at that strange age between dirty and care free childhood and the knobby legs of adolescence 

“You’re going to be late for your studies. Come on, let me brush your hair.” She said, pulling out the chair in front of the mirror. Briella’s hair was light and thin and lifeless, and she had acne covering her face. She was a pretty girl. 

Freya got up and took off her nightgown. The Lannister girl was slouching, a habit which she was trying to break, but in the moment, in front of Briella, she didn't care about appearances, why would she? Briella was no noble lady to please, no, she was as close as Freya would get to a friend.

“How are you?” Freya asked, pulling on the red and brown dress over her head. Briella helped her tie it.

“I’m doing fine milady.” She replied, a scripted response. Freya took it, just recently waking up she didn't truly care to know. She led her to the chair where she began to brush her hair.

“How would you like me to style it today, milady?” She asked.

“The regular style. It takes less time.” 

Briella gave a nod, the brushes becoming rougher now, in a rush to get her hair done, but Freya did not complain, she just concentrated on staying still and remembering the house sigils. 

Not long after, Freya had her hair down, with two braids on either side of her head, connecting at the back. She got up, and moved to the table, grabbing the cup of water. She gulped it down, wiping her face before straightening her back. 

Briella gave her a look, as if to ask if they were leaving yet. Freya nodded and they left without another word towards each other.

\---

“Freya.” A voice called out, echoing through the hall. The girl looked up from watching herself walk, to see a familiar blonde woman in front of her. She curtsied and gave her a smile. 

“Your grace,” She replied. “May I help you?” She asked. Cersei smiled and shook her head. The two guards behind her, a serious expression.

“I was wondering if we could speak in private, in my chambers.” She answered, looking at the knight besides Freya when she said private. Freya noticed this and frowned.

“Your grace, I would prefer if he stayed with me. He won’t tell anything to anyone. I trust Ser Maldron with my life,” She said, looking at the knight beside her.

He was aging, it was clear in the gray hairs speckling over black ones, and the wrinkles beginning to form at the corners of his dark brown eyes from constant smiles and laughter. It was clear in the way that he was no longer as brash as he was only four years ago. 

Freya continued,

“Especially after he…” She trailed off, not wanting to relive the moment in which a young sellsword named Maldron saved a seven year old's life.

Cersei smiled. A forced smile, she didn't like that answer.

“Very well. Let's go to your chambers then, shall we?”

Freya nodded, relieved that she had allowed Maldron to stay. She looked at him and smiled, and he looked back, the familiar smirk on his face and nodded back at her, letting her know everything was alright.

As they walked, Cersei made small talk to lift any awkward silences that may have occurred.

“How have your classes gone?” She asked.

“They’ve gone well. I’m told I’m very intelligent for my age.” She replied, a smile of pride forming on her face.

“Is that so?” Cersei laughed. “And in what ways?”

“I read well. I know all the houses and their sigils. My teachers say that ‘m good at making decisions too. Most of the time.”

Cersei’s face dimmed at that response, but only slightly. It took a keen eye to tell. 

“You know,” She started as they reached the door to her room. She waved at her guards to wait outside the door, and Maldron opened and shut the door for them. “I heard you said something that… truly shocked your teachers today.”

Cersei sat on the bed, and signaled to Freya to sit next to her, and Freya complied. Maldron waited by the door to allow them their secrets. The brown haired girl waited for Cersei to continue, her heart beating hard, she knew what it was.

“When asked who ruled Westeros, you replied… That the Lannisters did. You definitely raised some eyebrows.”

Freya’s face hardened, she wouldn't reveal how she felt, the slight shame that came from this, from Cersei treating her like a mother scolding a child. 

“You're not in trouble, little cub. I just want to know why you said it.” She told her, a hand running through her hair. Soothing, mother like, but Cersei was not her mother and would never be her mother. 

“I said it because it's the truth,” She began, suddenly very defensive of her actions. “The Lannisters rule Westeros, even if the Baratheons sit on the throne. I mean, if not for us the kingdom wouldn't have any gold. Or, uh, so I’ve overheard from some people.” She added, not wanting to admit that sometimes she would sneak around and read some papers that were so foolishly left on tables. “Besides. Joffrey may be Baratheon but he has the Lannister looks. He reminds people of the Lannisters even if he is a Baratheon, and he is the heir to the throne. It just… made sense your grace. I apologize.” She said, bowing her head in shame.

Cersei smiled at her. Out of the corner of her eye, Freya saw Maldron sit at the table, picking up an apple from the bowl in the center.

“No need to apologize, child. You’re not wrong, but you must be more careful in what you say. Many people won't like that answer.”

Freya was confused, she was a child, she did not understand why Cersei was so secretive and serious about this. The girl’s breath was shallow, she was scared, and she wasn't sure why.

“Freya perhaps when you’re older you’ll understand, and I’ll tell you. Just remember that no matter what, family means everything, even if it does demand the worst of sacrifices. Family above all.” She said, standing up. She placed a kiss on the child's forehead, one of the last for a long time to come. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.” She added, reaching for the door.

“Your grace.” Freya called out. Cersei stopped before reaching the door handle. “If… If you see my father, can you ask him if he can eat with us tonight. I haven't seen him in a few days.”

Cersei nodded, the smile still present.

“Of course. I’m sure Jaime will if he can.” She answered, and walked out of the door, and as the door closed, Freya heard the heavy boots walk until they were far away enough that the sound of footsteps disappeared. 

Freya looked over at Maldron, who was peeling the apple with his knife.

“What do you think she meant by that?” She asked, a sudden fear coming over her heart, something that wasn't innocent, something cruel.

“I’m not sure little one,” He replied, his voice was deep and haunting, and reminded her of her dream. “All I know is that I think you’ve just taken your first steps into the game. You have to be careful from now on.”

Freya nodded as she looked at the door, and suddenly, she felt a short childhood disappear.


End file.
